Kitty turned and led the way. She felt that this was only the beginning of the ghastly farce, nothing could possibly be found in her room unless her uncle contrived to put it there while he was pretending to search, and she would see to it that he was not allowed to manage that!
“If it’s no in there,” said Corrie, as they reached the small landing, “your aunt’ll ha’ to search your person. Go inside the two o’ ye. I’ll bide here. Rachel, you make search.”
Kitty began to feel puzzled in a dull, dreary fashion. Her uncle could play no tricks from where he stood. Why should he make such a long business of the matter? He had failed to terrify her, and—
“Where’ll I search?” wailed Miss Corrie.
“Every place. It’s got to be found,” replied her brother. “It’s Government money.”
“It’ll take a long, long time. Would ye no give her another chance to—to speak?”
“She’s had her chance. Hurry up!”
It was no doubt natural that Miss Corrie should start with the chest of drawers that served also for a dressing table, placed at an angle with the window and near it. She drew out the right-hand top drawer.
“Turn it out on the floor,” he ordered.
Kitty sat down on the bed and apathetically watched the scattering of her poor little fineries, gloves, ribbons, fancy buttons, and so on.